


heart skipped a beat

by vinesse



Series: Haikyuu!! Rarepair Week 2015 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beginnings/Celebration, Childhood/Unrequited, Date/Seasons, Distance/Language, Dreams/Travel, Free Prompt/Graduation, Haikyuu!! Rarepair Week, M/M, Mistakes/Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinesse/pseuds/vinesse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompt fills for rarepair week, Haikyuu!! version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. day one: {beginnings/celebration}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What were you doing,” you say. “What were you trying to prove?”
> 
> “Maybe I wasn’t trying to prove anything,” he yells, and there’s a glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “Why the hell do I have to prove anything to anyone? Especially you?”

“What were you doing,” you say, voice beating at him like the tides against a rock, stripping it and wearing it thin. You can see it in the hunch of his shoulders, the way he lets hair escape from his loose ponytail without a second thought. “What were you trying to prove?”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to prove anything,” he yells, and there’s a glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “Why the hell do I have to prove anything to anyone? Especially you?” He looks surprised as the words leave his mouth, lips snapping shut as if to hold back more, and you suppress a wince.

“You don’t.”

He eyes you warily then, but you’re not Daichi, ready with a hard-hitting comment that pierces straight to his heart. You’re just Suga, eighteen years old and there’s the beginning of something unfurling in your chest, tight and beautiful. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Especially me. But it would be nice if you did anyway.”

Asahi blinks, once, twice, and the corners of his mouth twitch as he bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“And I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s go back to the party, ok? It’s for your return, after all.” You let your lips curl upwards into a gentle smile, hand in front of you, palm open like an offering.

When he takes it, your heartbeat stutters, and you bring your free hand up to your neck until your pulse slows, pressing your fingertips into your skin. It feels like there's a budding flower in your chest, new and fresh, and when you curl your fingers lightly around Asahi’s, your heart skips another beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first prompt fill for haikyuu!! rarepair week, Beginnings/Celebrations! It's pretty short, hopefully the rest will be longer. c: You can find out more over at hqrarepairweek.tumblr.com!
> 
> What are they arguing about? Who knows.


	2. day two: {distance/language}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was a little glad, to have so little attention compared to his teammates.

Most people didn’t know.  
  
It was easy to get caught up in the thrill of the game, the smell of the court, the cries and cheers of the crowd. It was easy to get lost in strategy, to get lost in whispers of kings, to lose your way in the familiarity of warm up stretches and practice receives, ten minutes before you took the stage as the main event.  
  
So, most people didn’t know. They missed the flash of hand signals, the mouthed words, the waving arms to grab attention instead of called names.  
It was so easy to get lost in the tornado that was Karasuno, to stare at the blinding light of two powerhouse aces and one extraordinary decoy. It was easy to forget about the defense that held up the wings of Karasuno, that supported and defended the team against the toughest in the prefecture.  
  
Nishinoya knew that he wasn’t ever going to be the spotlight. He was going to be noticed, sure, but it was never going to be anything like what Hinata and the Ace received. Noya was talented, he knew that, but volleyball wasn’t about the one who kept the ball in play, at least not to the crowd. It was about the ones who scored the points, and Noya wasn’t ever going to be a spiker. It was as easy as breathing to him to dive across the hardwood, to chase after the ball until it hit the ground. It was easy to slide his hand underneath pliable leather, to dive until his knees bled and still get up for another shot because the strongest stood on the court, and he was there to make his team strong.  
  
He was a little glad, to have so little attention compared to his teammates.  
  
“ _Are you ready_?”  
  
Noya grinned, the blinding one he reserved for only a few. “ _I am now_.”  
  
Sugawara watched the libero’s fingers fly to perform the quick, shorthand version of JSL they’d come up with specifically for discretion on the court, and his lips twitched upwards in return of Noya’s smile. He clapped the younger boy on the shoulder, head bent low so his breath tickled Noya’s ear, even though he couldn’t hear the words, he knew them all the same.  
  
“ _Let’s fly once more today, okay_?”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JSL is Japanese Sign Language, just like how America as ASL!


	3. day three: {date/seasons}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi meets him during the spring.

They meet in the spring.  
  
It’s odd, Daichi thinks, to not have volleyball. To go to college and turn his back on the gym when he passes, heading home to his one-person apartment. To ignore the deflated balls in the entryway, dirty from overuse and forgotten in the face of responsibility. To see the flowers bloom outside and know that he won’t practice receives underneath falling petals.  
  
Karasuno High made it to Nationals exactly once during Daichi’s time there. They were shut out in the first round, and he will always remember the look of the opposing captain, looming over Daichi who crouched on the hardwood, hands in fists, tears streaming down his face as his team sobbed.  
  
The next week, he graduated and never looked back, diploma in hand and eyes focused upwards to the sky. He walked away from Karasuno, feathers peeling from his back and drifting to the ground as a former crow refused to try and take flight.  
  
Daichi spends his time sitting in chemistry classes instead, head turned out the window as he scrawl lazy notes, phone lighting up with messages from both Asahi and Sugawara, crows that took wing without him. He doesn’t even notice the man that sits beside him on the third day, or the fact that he carries a sports bag with him.  
  
It’s a week before they actually talk, a week before the newcomer finally turns to the side with narrowed eyes and a look of exasperation, hissing a quick ‘Turn your vibration off’ before facing forward, eyes locked onto the professor. Daichi looks at him then, looks closely and takes note of the taped fingers, of the volleyball shoes sticking out his desk mate's bag, of the jacket emblazoned with the logo of Tokyo University’s volleyball team. He takes note and silently seethes, jealousy coursing through him like a river, all for this man that chose to grasp what Daichi ignored.  
  
“Sorry,” he mutters, eyes cast back down at his notes.  
  
He doesn’t learn the other’s name until after class, a quick ‘I’m Oikawa Tooru’ tossed over a shoulder as the boy flashes a peace sign, leaving Daichi standing outside the classroom with a dazed expression.  
  
After that, Oikawa talks during lectures. He taps his fingers anxiously, and texts almost obsessively, while at the same time still managing to take notes in a neat, orderly hand. Daichi’s almost impressed. He tells him so one day after class, when they both linger, and Oikawa teases him for a solid week.  
  
It takes almost a month before Oikawa broaches the subject, a month during which he hadn’t shut up about basically everything except the one thing Daichi thinks is most important to him, volleyball.  
  
“Eh, Sawamura-san, didn’t you use to play?” Oikawa looks suspiciously innocent, eyes wide and bright, and Daichi resists the urge to flick him in the forehead.  
  
“I did, once,” he says slowly, twisting his pencil in his fingers. “I stopped after high school.”  
  
“That’s a shame,” Oikawa tells him, blinding smile plastered on his face, and it’s the one Daichi recognizes from when he’s surrounded by multitudes of admiring girls. “I remember you from Nationals, you were decent. Very good at recieves, Sawa-chan!”  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Daichi mutters almost as an after-thought, pencil stilling in his fingers, and he thinks about a picture Sugawara sent him, of his new university’s uniform.

* * *

Oikawa’s petition starts in the summer, a single phrase that turns Daichi’s life upside down.  
  
“Why don’t you join the college team with me?” Oikawa asks him, sitting beside him outside the gas station, voice oddly hesitant for once in the time they’ve known each other.  
  
Daichi thinks about it as he accepts the ice cream Oikawa offers. He thinks about it often and for a long time, during sunsets when the cicadas scream loud through his open window. He thinks about it every time he sits down in biology, next to Oikawa who repeats the same question and receives the same response.  
  
“I don’t know.”

* * *

It’s fall before Daichi’s answer changes, and the leaves are starting to change color when he finally replies, exasperated and annoyed, with a ‘maybe’ that sends Oikawa grinning obnoxiously for the rest of class.

* * *

Oikawa starts visiting Daichi’s apartment during the winter, bringing with him questions Daichi doesn’t want to hear and thoughts about answers he’d rather avoid.  
  
“Are you going to try out, eh, Sawa-chan?” Oikawa looks at Daichi over the rim of his cup, one that Daichi’s set aside specifically for him. “They’re talking about tryouts. I might have mentioned your name once or twice or possibly a lot.”  
  
“You did what?” Daichi pauses at the stove, watching the meat brown in the saucepan before him for a minute before shooting Oikawa an annoyed glare. “Why the hell did you do that?”  
  
Oikawa shrugs, moving to sit at the kitchen table, and deflects Daichi’s look with a grin. “Because I know you want to play. Oh, you’re burning the meat, pay attention Sawa-chan.”

* * *

It’s spring again when Daichi sends in his application for the volleyball team. Oikawa breathes down his neck as he fills it out, hands dancing back and forth against his arm, breath hissing against his ear whispering that he’ll be good for the team.  
  
Daichi edges Tooru out the way as he pushes the form into the coach’s mailbox, shooting him a look that Oikawa ignores as he chatters on about the team, already listing out each member’s flaws and strengths, fingers slithering to slide in between Daichi’s own.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, not too confident with Oikawa. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. day four: {childhood/unrequited}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were like the earth and the moon. Always orbiting, but never touching.

* * *

_side a_

* * *

“Lev, dammit, read blocking! Read blocking!” Yaku bellows, sliding across the court on his stomach, hands outstretched for a ball that lands just a few inches away.  
  
Kenma watches from the back half of the court, silent, as Yaku hops up to punch the tall blocker in the gut. They bicker back and forth, Lev leering over the older boy, and Kenma doesn’t even notice when Kuroo appears by his side.  
  
“You watch Lev a lot, Kenma.”  
  
“It’s only natural,” the blond replies, finally turning away to look at the captain, eyebrows raised. “I need to figure out what toss he needs.”  
  
“Always diligent when it comes to Haiba, aren’t you?” Kuroo smiles, knowing and sharp, and Kenma inhales just a little bit, because his best friend is too perceptive sometimes.  
  
“You always complain that I barely work. I’m trying more.”  
  
Kuroo laughs then, slapping Kenma on the back, and trots off to yank Yaku away, the Libero finally having grabbed Lev by the collar to shake him. Kenma watches this too, eyes narrowed just a little bit at the way Yaku grabs Lev so easily. Then he shakes his head, turning to the bench.  
  
It’s not until their training camp, thrown together in half an hour by Kuroo, that Kenma gets it. He finally gets why his stomach turns to knots when Lev demands for a toss, why he feels like there are butterflies floating around inside him when the taller boy manages to spike. Why he hasn’t been able to stop watching him after that day when they rescued the stray cat from the tree.  
  
Kenma watches Yaku drop into Lev’s lap and start complaining, whispering to the other boy with his eyes narrowed while Lev pets his hair soothingly, and Kenma understands. He understands a lot of things in that brief moment, and for the first time in over a month, he turns away from Lev after just a brief glance, silently laying out his futon.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kuroo whispers to him from a futon over, smoothing his blanket with anxious fingers, watching Kenma with a steady gaze. “I thought you might have known, Kenma. You paid him a lot of attention.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Kenma tells him, wiggling under his covers with his phone clutched in white-tipped fingers. His voice feels like it’s sticking in his throat. “I was just watching.”

* * *

_side b_

* * *

  
  
When Lev thinks Kenma doesn’t see, he studies the setter. He looks at the way his roots started to grow in darker than the rest of his hair, the way his shoulders hunch every time someone who isn’t Kuroo approaches him, the way his fingers curve just a little bit when he doesn’t have anything in his hands. Lev sees the bitten nails, the pushed-back bangs, the small smile he gets whenever Kuroo comes close.

Lev doesn’t get that smile.  
  
No matter how hard he practices, how many times he gets Kenma to set for him, how hard he works, Kenma never spares him a second glance. Second glances are for Kuroo only, Lev sees that, and it makes his stomach twist and turn.  
  
What Lev does get, though, is the way Yaku studies him during practice, the way the shorter boy eases up on the teasing and punches, instead softening his voice and nudging Lev gently. He gets Yaku buying extra milk during lunch, just for him, and better block training because Yaku sees the flaws in his stance and is determined to make him shine.  
  
Lev gets a quick kiss when they part ways for home after practice, Yaku taking a left where Lev needs to take a right, and his lips tingle for the rest of the night.  
  
Slowly, Lev stops looking at Kenma. He misses the way the setter watches him back, he no longer sees that Kenma doesn’t hunch up his shoulders whenever they pass. He doesn’t notice the way Kenma’s lips curl up into a small smile whenever they talk. Lev focuses on Yaku, who draws his attention the way a plant grows towards sun, and Lev doesn’t look away.  
  
Sometimes, though, when Kenma’s back is turned and Yaku isn’t around, Lev watches the blond. Just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haaa, this one took a little bit to write even though it's short. hope you liked it!


	5. day five: {mistakes/texting}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Kei wondered if Kageyama would fail out of college, spiral into a miserable depression over the lost chance to play volleyball, and end up living under a bridge somewhere.

_One, two, three…._

Kei let out a long breath, finally opening his eyes to look down at the paper before him. The writing was fairly terrible, kanji steadily moving upwards on the page in ever-present slopes, and Kei had to take another breath at the answer to the first question.

_‘The sum of the year is….’_

_365 days._

“No,” Kei hissed, stabbing the paper with the tip of his finger. “God, are you stupid? The answer is ‘on New Year’s Day’, how do you not know that one? I think Nishinoya-san had it on a shirt last week!”

“I don’t pay attention to that sort of thing,” Kageyama replied sullenly, steadily refusing to look at Kei, focusing on something outside the library’s window. “I hate proverbs.”

“You need this credit to graduate, idiot.” Kei pinched the bridge of his nose, then moved onto the next question, crossing his fingers under the table where Kageyama couldn’t see.

_‘The meaning of the proverb ‘kindness is not for others’ is:’_

_You shouldn’t be kind. It’s bad for you._

“Oh my god.”

“What,” Kageyama barked, pressing his face into his hands. “What’s wrong with that one?”

“How the hell did you pass your college entrance exams. Don’t answer that, I know it was volleyball.”

Kageyama grunted, finally pulling his attention back to the table. “What if it was?”

“You’re so simple-minded it’s unbelievable. This one means that kindness will be repaid.” Kei tapped the paper with his pencil, silently counting to ten in his head. “What’s the lowest you need to make on this test to pass.”

“...It’s out of one hundred points. I need an eighty or above.”

Kei buried his face in his arms, silently praising Yamaguchi for being able to handle this for the past two years. “Impossible. You’re just terrible. Your understanding is middle-school level at best, and your handwriting sucks.”

“It does not, learn to read!”

“Learn to write, idiot!”

They sat in silence for a minute, glaring, before Kei knocked his knee in Kageyama’s, shifting his glasses higher on his face. “You got the next two right, though.”

Kageyama eyed the paper then, sighing after a second. “Noya-san had those on his shirts too.”

“I knew you didn’t know those on your own. Pathetic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmfao Kags and Kei are literally my favorite snarky couple.


	6. day six: {dreams/travel}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata burned so bright that Kei never wanted to look away.

“Do you believe in fairy tales?”  
  
Kei glances up, eyebrows furrowed together. Hinata’s known for trying to distract him with ridiculous questions, but there was something in the orange-haired boy’s tone. Something like wistfulness. “No, they’re made up. Why?”  
  
“Just thinking about a dream I had,” Hinata says, twisting a lock of hair that had escaped his short ponytail around his finger. He’s staring out the window, chin propped up in his hand, and sometimes Kei can’t imagine not being next to him. Hinata’s tiny and beautiful, and Kei spends entirely too much time thinking about the way that his hair looks in certain types of light, just like fire. “It was weird. You were there.”  
  
“Was I?”  
  
“Yeah. It was really nice, you were a witch.”  
  
Kei raises his eyebrows then, one after the other, and ignores the pencil Hinata throws at him, along with a soft ‘show off’. “A witch? How creative. Your imagination knows no bounds. Was Kageyama in this dream? Maybe as a king?”  
  
“Don’t be an asshole, Tsukki,” Hinata chides, flicking another pencil at the blond-haired man. “You were really sweet, you should try it sometimes in real life! You gave me some sorta potion to make me fly.” He turned to face the window again, expression hungry and so full of wanting it stole Kei’s breath. It was the look Hinata got on the court, when he wanted a toss so bad that he radiated pure need.  
  
It was another minute before Kei speaks, pen stilling on the worksheet in front of him. “Why did I need to give you a potion to fly?”  
  
Hinata shrugs at that, finally pulling away from the window to stare down at the stack of books in front of him, eyes narrowed with displeasure. “I don’t know, you’re the one that said I needed it!”  
  
Kei scoffs, reaching across the table to bury a hand in Hinata’s hair. “Idiot. You fly on the court already, why do you need magic?"  
  
Hinata grins, a bright one that rarely makes its way onto his face for anyone else. “Look, you can be sweet if you try!”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki is my favorite little sasspot tbh.


	7. day seven: {free prompt/graduation}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time they're tied, two to two, you're tired and sore and the only thing that's keeping you going is the fact that Ushijima still has this fire in his eyes, one that tells you you're worth something.

When you say that it'll take just three for you to get used to Ushijima, you don't know but you're lying.

It does take three balls to get used to his spike, but it takes a lot more than that to get used to the fire in his eyes, fire that he gets when he studies you across the net, head cocked to the side in either admiration or exasperation, you don't know which. It throws you off balance, the way he looks at you like you're his equal, and it makes the sting on your forearms worth every prickle of pain.

Five sets is a long time, even for you, who spends hours throwing yourself across hardwood floors, chasing a dream that weighs heavily on your shoulders as you stand on the court, because it's not just your dream and it never was. It's a dream shared by 12 people, 12 people who give their all for themselves and each other and trust you so absolutely that it keeps you awake at night sometimes, laid in bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark plastic stars stuck haphazardly across your ceiling.

Five sets is a long time and he makes you work for it, spike after spike tossed down to your waiting arms, and each hit rattles your teeth by the time you're tied two to two. It's definitely admiration that fuels him at this point, and wonder, because every time out it’s his eyes you feel on your back. You're sweaty and tired and you feel like your legs will melt below you but you're the happiest you've ever been because if Oikawa was an upward battle on a hill, Ushijima is a mountain, and you're going to make it to the top. Personal comfort be damned.

At the end, when your legs are splattered with new bruises and you can't feel your arms, he bypasses Daichi to reach for your hand instead, collected gaze pinning you down as you shake his hand across the net. He nods his head once, twice, and that's all you really need from him, this small recognition that sends your heart pounding harder than any match.

You see him again outside the doors, and you stop to let all the others pile onto the bus, groans and muffled complaints providing a soothing background as you approach the other boy, hands on your hip and bag over your shoulder.

“You’re the only lefty I know, wanna practice sometime?”

He looks surprised as he turns to glance down at you, eyebrows raised and mouth in a line that quirks up just a little bit in the left corner. He watches you shuffle your feet, because standing still has always been a problem for you when there’s so many things to do, before nodding again, just like at the end of the match, pulling out his phone.

You give him your number, voice crackling with excitement, and you see his eyes light up with fire again as you pass him your phone, watching him enter the digits in slowly. You ignore the calls from Ryuu, and the impatient glares of Shiratorizawa, slipping your phone back into your back when he’s done, waving as you dash to the bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's the end! I had fun with this rarepair week, here's some UshiNoya to send us off with!


End file.
